


sighs in my sleep

by finkpishnets



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Season/Series 07, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: “Congratulations,” the nurse says, smile pulled too tight as she glances at Jackie’s unadorned hand.Jackie wants to shrug it off —“My husband’s getting the ring engraved as an anniversary gift. Isn’t that justsoromantic?”— but she can’t find the breath to let the lie trip off her tongue, even in the face of pity.





	sighs in my sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klutzy_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy_girl/gifts).



> happy rarepairs, klutzy_girl! i hope this meets some of what you were after. it ended up far angstier than i intended, oops. 
> 
> set in season 7, post break-up.
> 
> disclaimer: i know next to nothing about pregnancy, so please take all that with a pinch of salt. also **warning** for an inappropriate eating disorder comment, and for general show like sexism from fez.

 

 

“Congratulations,” the nurse says, smile pulled too tight as she glances at Jackie’s unadorned hand. Jackie wants to shrug it off — _“My husband’s getting the ring engraved as an anniversary gift. Isn’t that just_ so _romantic?”_ — but she can’t find the breath to let the lie trip off her tongue, even in the face of pity.

She musters a smile from somewhere automatic, ever the actress, and collects her coat and bag and doesn’t think of anything at all until she’s curled over the steering wheel of her car, alone in the parking lot of a hospital a state away, and wondering if it’s shock that’s stopping the tears from drowning her.

She hadn’t really thought—

(Except she _had_. She had when she’d started to feel strange, when she’d asked Steven about the future, when she’d stepped on the scales and thought ‘ _that’s not right_ ’.

When she’d driven hours to take a test somewhere no-one would recognise her.)

She takes a deep breath, starts the engine, and goes home.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

She rips the flowered paper from her walls with trembling fingers, furious. It’s so _girly_ , so _childish_ , and she’s not, she’s not, _she’s not_.

Not anymore.

“Sweetheart?” her mom says, blinking at the light, smooth silk nightgown and not a hair out of place. Everything Jackie’s always aspired to be and hated at the same time. “Is everything all right?”

“Just redecorating,” Jackie says.

“Well,” her mom says, “that’s nice. Could it wait until tomorrow, though? And an interior designer?”

A laugh bubbles in Jackie’s throat. “Sure,” she says, and hopes the late hour covers the bite of hysteria. “Sure. Okay.”

“Good girl,” her mom says. She goes to leave, and turns back at the door. “I can’t say I blame you, though. It’s definitely time for something more…” She waves a hand. “Mature.”

“Yeah,” Jackie says, sliding down the wall and clutching the carpet in her fists. “Yes. It is.”

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

Donna laughs at something Eric’s said, running fingers through blonde hair and looking for the world like her own future plans crumbling hasn’t affected her at all. Has only made her stronger, more confident, more present. 

Jackie wants to grab her shoulders, shake her, ask her how.

She folds her hands in her lap, instead. She doesn’t smile, but then Eric wouldn’t expect it of her. Business as usual.

Steven pushes his sunglasses up his nose. Jackie looks at the TV, a muted nature documentary, and feels the distance between them like a crater.

_You broke up with him_ , she reminds herself.

She still knows it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t stop it feeling like dying.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

She doesn’t go to the basement for a few days after that.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

“If I’d known all it took to keep Jackie away was telling her Hyde was a commitment-phobe, I’d have done it _ages_ ago,” Eric says, and Michael laughs even as Donna punches Eric in the thigh hard enough to bruise.

It’s a joke — a _bad_ one, but a joke all the same — Jackie knows that. She knows if she cornered Eric and spilled her secrets between them, he’d… Well, he’d shove her at Mrs Forman and run as fast as his spindly legs could carry him, but he wouldn’t mock her, would understand the gravity of the situation. He might even try and hug her.

Which, _ew_.

She won’t tell him, but if she _did_ —

It’s a bad joke, and Jackie rolls her eyes. Shoots back something about weddings that has him glancing at Donna and laughing awkwardly. 

Later, Steven catches her in the kitchen, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and eyes looking somewhere over her left shoulder.

“He doesn’t mean it,” he says. “Forman.”

“I know,” Jackie says, because she does. Or, she knows, he doesn’t mean it _entirely_. 

“You’re always welcome,” Steven says, mouth tight like the words hurt him, but are no less true.

“Cool,” Jackie says.

“Cool,” Steven says.

She grabs a soda and goes outside to see what stupid thing Fez and Michael are up to.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

She calls Brooke one afternoon, makes small-talk about Point Place and Chicago and Betsy, and even though Brooke must think it’s strange, she doesn’t let on, just tells Jackie about people she’s met and Michael’s habit of sending completely inappropriate gifts through the mail.

Jackie hums and says the right things, and it’s fine, _it’s fine_ , until Brooke mentions Betsy’s bath time, and it’s so mundane, so _stupid_ , but Jackie _loses it_.

“Jackie,” Brooke says, “oh, Jackie.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackie says, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s nothing, I—”

“It’s okay,” Brooke says knowingly, because of course she knows, she’s the smartest person any of them have ever met. “It’s going to be okay.”

“ _How?_ ” Jackie says, and it comes out a broken cry, fear and hurt and panic finally making an appearance. It’s almost a relief.

“Because you’re strong,” Brooke says. “Because you’re smart. Because you have people that love you. Besides, it could be worse…”

“How?” Jackie says, calmer this time, somehow.

“Well,” Brooke says, almost mischievous, “it could be Michael’s.”

“Burn,” Jackie says, and then she’s laughing, laughing so hard her side hurts, and Brooke’s laughing too, somewhere in the distance. 

“Thanks,” she says, when she can finally breathe.

“Anytime,” Brooke says, and Jackie thinks it’s almost awful how sincere she is.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

Her mom finds her knelt over the toilet, the third day in a row she’s been unable to keep down her lunch.

“Please tell me this is bulimia,” she says, and Jackie wants to laugh and cry and hit something. 

She shakes her head, and waits for her mom to turn around and walk away, to fire off a sweetly scathing statement, to make it all about her. The Pamela Burkhart special. 

She doesn’t expect the hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles, as her mom kneels on the floor beside her. Jackie wants to scold her for ruining the knees of her silk pants, but she just tears up instead. 

(She’s really getting bored of crying; it’s doing nothing for her skin.)

“Oh, sweetheart,” her mom says, and doesn’t move until Jackie’s able to shakily stand. “Well,” she says, “at least we know it won’t destroy your figure.” She waves her hands in front of her own body. “Genetics.”

Jackie snorts and is suddenly overwhelmingly glad that her mom’s here.

When she reaches out, her mom holds her tightly, running fingers through her hair.

“We’ll work it out,” she says, and the relief is almost crippling.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

It’s…not better, but _easier_ after that. Her mom comes with her to her hospital appointments, and offers advice in her own way, even if Jackie’s sure at least ninety percent of it isn’t advisable in the slightest.

They go shopping and buy clothes that slide and fall from her body in secretive ways, because there’s no reason she shouldn’t look as slim and fashionable as possible at all times.

If she eats more at The Hub and doesn’t sit in on the circle, no one says anything.

It’s not a lasting solution, but it gives her time to try and wrap her head around things, at least a little.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

“Is this because of the heartbreak?” Fez says, eyeing her speculatively. “Are you eating your feelings?”

Jackie pauses, her fingers reaching out for another of the sandwiches Mrs Forman had brought down for them. She doesn’t normally eat this many carbohydrates, but they’re just so _good_. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Fez says, “I like a lady with a little somethin’ somethin’ to hold onto. Your breasts are _magnificent_.”

He waggles his eyebrows.

Jackie throws her plate at his head.

It flies an inch past his cheek and smashes into the wall behind him, porcelain shattering. The silence that falls feels just as fragile.

“Jackie…” Donna starts.

Jackie’s already on her feet, storming out the door and into the late afternoon. She doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to explain herself. 

Doesn’t want to lie.

“Jackie,” Steven says, fingers curling around her arm.

_He came after me,_ she thinks. 

“Fez is gross,” he says. “Want me to hit him? I’ll make it bleed.”

_No_ , she thinks, _that’s not what I want. That’s not what I want at all._

She’s shaking and her back hurts and she’s just so tired, and it must show, how close she is to breaking, because Steven’s palm is curving over her cheek, tipping her chin up even as she refuses to meet his eyes.

“Jackie….?” he says, voice low and hesitant.

“Don’t,” she says, ripping away from him ( _again_ ). 

This time he doesn’t follow.

She pretends she’s glad.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

“Okay, but Jackie,” Michael says, the next time she can bring herself to hang out, and her feet freeze on the top step. 

She should be worried about if they’ve even noticed her absence, if they’re happy about it, if they’re really her friends at all, if they’re talking about her behind her back. The old her would have been. 

Instead she wonders if it seems suspicious, her staying away.

She waits.

“What about her?” Eric says.

“I dunno, man.” Michael continues. “She’s even moodier than usual, she’s been wearing flat shoes for weeks, and I’m pretty sure I heard her chucking up the other day. In _public_.”

“Maybe she’s sick,” Donna says, and Jackie would be flattered by the concern in her voice if she wasn’t so scared.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “That or pregnant.” 

He laughs.

No one else does.

“I’ve gotta go,” Steven says.

Jackie runs.

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

He finds her sitting on the hood of her car up Mount Hump.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he says, holding his hands out with joking placation as he glances over the drop.

“Too late,” Jackie says, and the honesty crackles between them, sharp and obtrusive.

He’s not wearing his glasses, and Jackie can see the moment his gaze turns serious, receiving confirmation for something he already suspected. 

She remembers how that feels.

He slides onto the hood next to her, grasping his hands in from of him, back hunched. She pulls her knees as close to her chest as she can with the new barrier.

“Is this why we—” he starts, and she brushes it away with a shake of her head.

“No,” she says. “I mean, I didn’t _know_. Not then. Not _really_.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not Kelso.”

“I know,” she says. That’s never been the problem.

“Come on,” he says, reaching out a hand. “I’ll drive you home.”

 

 

 

**~**

 

 

 

She changes into pyjamas whilst Steven gets her a drink, then sits on the bed and hugs her pillow.

“Here,” he says, passing her a glass of water and kicking off his boots. He climbs up next to her, leaning against the headboard, and she puts the glass on the bedside table and reaches out for his hand before she can stop herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“What?” Steven says, blinking. “Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” she repeats. “Because of—” She waves her free hand at the space currently occupied by her pillow.

“Pretty sure that’s as much to do with me as you. More, probably.”

“I should have told you,” she says, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah,” he says, “but I get why you didn’t.” 

He lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, and she falls into him, tucking as close as she can. He feels the same, smells the same, and she’s missed him _so much_. 

“You don’t want this,” she says, forcing the words from her throat even though they hurt more than anything. She’ll take his comfort in this moment, but she won’t drag him kicking and screaming into a life he’s made clear isn’t for him. She can be cruel and selfish and callous, she can view the world through privileged glasses and believe it’ll shape itself to her will if only she wants it to, but she won’t trap him. She won’t make him do something he doesn’t want. She won’t be the girl people expect her to be. 

Not to Steven.

“Jackie…” he starts.

“No,” she says. “You don’t, and I won’t make you.” 

He runs his fingers through her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Jackie,” he says, firmer this time. “Even if… I won’t be like my parents.” 

She hadn’t thought of that. Of Edna and Bud, of W.B. years later. Of Steven’s abandonment issues and hesitancy about family. She thinks he’ll forgive her the oversight, considering.

“I know,” she says, because she does now. It’s something to be sure of, something to hold onto. 

They sit in silence for a while. Her mom’s out, won’t be back before morning, so it’s just Jackie and Hyde and…

_And._

“I love you,” Steven says, and Jackie freezes. He squeezes her shoulder. “Don’t. Just— I love you. I didn’t tell you when I should have. I _never_ told you when I should’ve. I’m a dick. But I do. You asked and I should have said it then. I don’t know if it would’ve been enough, but it’s true. When I think about the future, there’s never a version without you in it.”

“Steven,” she says, her voice catching. She sits up and he turns to face her.

“It’s not just ‘cause of—” He looks at her stomach. “Maybe I never would’ve been brave enough to say it otherwise, but I’d always have regretted it.”

It’s—

It’s everything she’s wanted to hear for so long, and he’s watching her with an open vulnerability he never lets the world see, and she loves him _so much_.

“Say it again,” she says, and doesn’t care that she sounds desperate.

“I love you,” he says, without a pause. “I’m sorry, and I’m here, and I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me.” He takes her face in his hands. “I love you, Jackie Burkhart. Pretty sure I always will.”

“Steven,” she says, pressing her thumbs to his cheeks, making sure he’s real. “I’m pregnant.”

It’s the first time she’s said it aloud. 

It’s still terrifying, but for the first time it doesn’t feel like the end of the world.

“Yeah,” he says, bringing their foreheads together. “That’s gonna be one good looking kid.”

When she laughs it comes out breathless.

“Stay?” she asks.

He kisses her, just a press of lips, but a promise all the same.

“Yeah,” he says.

It’s enough.

 

 


End file.
